


I'm All You've Known

by fanforfanatic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanforfanatic/pseuds/fanforfanatic
Summary: “You said you lov- You said-” Dean can’t say it, Cas never should have, so he drinks more instead.





	I'm All You've Known

Today, Cas is the one who almost died at the hands of a prince of Hell or whatever the fuck- it’s not like it matters what ends up doing them in, only when it happens- but Dean’s the one who’s wrecked. Dangerously drunk, waving a bottle around, nearly dropping it, though only twice.

Cas isn’t sure why exactly but he thinks Sam might have an idea since he retreated to his room as soon as they made it back to the bunker, leaving Cas and Dean alone in the library.

Cas didn’t notice just how much Dean was drinking at first, too occupied with leaning back in his chair and _recuperating_. There’s no wound, not anymore, but Cas is drained.

Eventually, he opens his eyes and Dean is standing (no longer sitting), holding a different bottle than the one he had started with, having entirely abandoned the notion of a glass, and glaring at Cas.

“You fucked up, Cas,” Dean slurs, moving to take another swig, but he aborts the idea. “ _You’re_ fucked up,” he corrects. He takes the swig this time and it’s a long one, long enough that Cas winces at the phantom burn in his own throat.

“The injury is gone, Dean,” Cas says placatingly, reluctant to defend himself. Dean seems primed for a fight and he doesn’t want to fight with Dean.

The feeling is not mutual, apparently. “Shut up,” Dean says. “Just- Just be quiet. You don’t get to speak anymore. _You don’t get to say things, anymore._ ”

“Dean,” Cas starts, never one to obey. “It may have been a close call but everyone made it out with minimal damage.”

“You can’t say shit like that, Cas.” Dean stumbles back like being near Cas, even with the table between them, could hurt him. He takes another drink. It’s impressive, really, Dean wasn’t even sure he could get drunk anymore.

“It’s the truth. We are all alright and-”

Dean interrupts him with a dry laugh, arms swinging out, liquor spilling, balance precarious. “No,” he says. “You can’t say what you said.”

Cas doesn’t understand what Dean is referencing and it might be because Dean isn’t making much sense but Cas is so tired that it might just be him that’s unable to keep up.

“You said you lov- _You said_ -” Dean can’t say it, Cas never should have, so he drinks more instead.

Cas gets it, then, and he’s relieved. This he can handle much more than a conversation about how mortal they all really are. How much time they don’t have. Telling Dean he cares, he can handle. Showing Dean how he feels, he can handle.

Dean knocks back maybe another two shots worth of booze and slams the bottle onto the table. There’s an audible crack, but nothing seems to leak. Then Dean stalks down the hall.

Cas thinks he ought to follow but Dean is already back with a duffle. The duffle is Dean’s, tattered and worn, but it’s the few articles of clothing he’s stuffing inside are Cas’.

Dean walks all the way around the table and pulls Cas to his feet by the lapel of his trench coat, shoving the bag into his arms.

“I’ve put some stuff you’ll need in there like cash, credit cards. Some IDs I had done for you.”

Cas’ eyes are wide but Dean can’t tell since he won’t even look at him. This is not how Cas thought this conversation would end up going, and he’s imagined it plenty of times.

“You need to go, Cas.” Dean speaks gruffly.

“W-what is this?” _What is going on?_

Dean’s head snaps towards him, eyes finally meeting his. Dean says, “You have to fucking go.”

“Because I said-”

“Because you said something you can’t mean!” Dean pulls on Cas’ lapel again, tugging him towards the stairs. He’s so drunk that it’s mostly Cas keeping him steady. The angel could easily subdue him but it’s not like Cas would fight Dean.

They’re at the foot of the stairs when Dean stops, apparently sober enough not to attempt going up the steps. He shoves at Cas to, though.

Cas stands firm for moment but his voice cracks when he says, “But I do mean it.”

Dean glares at him, shoves harder, meaner. “You don’t. You only think you do, Cas, because you don’t know anyone else. We’ve- _I’m_ all you’ve known. You need to go.” Then, again, softly, “Please go, Cas.”

Cas doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t understand what is happening, but Dean is looking at him like Cas is the person who’s ruined him most in life and Cas can hear the prayer that’s begging him to get gone and Dean is grinding his teeth like being this close is causing him pain again and Cas doesn’t want that.

Cas loves Dean. Loves Dean enough to always come when he calls. Loves Dean enough to go when he asks.

The heavy metal door of the bunker shuts behind him with a clang and he’s left with the clothes on his back, whatever Dean’s packed in the duffle and a very big hole in his chest.

 

Cas heads West because it’s a good a direction as any. He walks a fair bit but eventually a pair of girls pick him up off the side of the road. They’re giggly and often sing along to the music they have playing.

They listen to the actual radio, not old cassettes, and the stations they pick have songs that are upbeat and playful. None of the grit Dean usually has playing.

Cas… Cas likes it. It has him thinking that maybe Dean is right, not about Cas not loving him because that’s one of the few things Cas is always sure of, but about how limited Cas’ perception of the world has been.

He’s seen it, seen humanity, mostly through Dean’s eyes. Fell in love with it because of Dean’s loyalty to it. Dean came first for Cas, humanity followed.

He does love it now, though, he loves _them._ These beings that feel things so viscerally- Cas knows because he’s been one- yet can laugh instead of cry. These creatures that create better than his father did. That made the music that these smiling girls hum to. Maybe Cas owes it to them, or to himself, to discover beyond the scope of Dean Winchester.

It’s early morning when Cas wakes up in the backseat of their beaten up Jeep. They must have stopped at some point because the girl with the dark skin and the light pink braids is driving now.

“He’s up!” The ginger says, turning in her seat to peer at Cas. “Gotta tell you man, you’ve seen better days.”

“Shit life if you haven’t.”

“You knocked out before we even got your name.” The ginger sticks her hand out for him to shake and grins wide, uninhibited, crooked teeth and all. “I’m Clara.”

“No one calls you that, Red.”

“No one calls me that,” Clara echoes with an easy nod and another smile. “That’s Corrine- Ow! Cory, her name’s Cory.” She corrects, rubbing at the now sore spot on her head. “What’s your name, blue-eyes?”

“Castiel.”

“Where ya headed Castiel?”

“Euh…” Castiel doesn’t have a destination in mind. Where does one go to explore humanity? “Where does one go to explore humanity?” he asks.

“Oh us too!” Red exclaims chipperly.

 

As it happens, where one goes to explore humanity, according to Clara and Cory, is San Francisco. It takes the day to get there and they fill it with boisterous chatter and laughter Cas is all too eager to engage in. Cas never laughed this much with Dean, due to circumstances perhaps, but he’s also not laughing quite as hard as he did with him.

Once they arrive, Cas somehow ends up tagging along with the girls who seem to have no trouble inviting him to meet their friends who in turn have no trouble welcoming him into the fold.

The fold is an eccentric group of diverse people who tell Cas he’s much too stiff and that they’ll help him loosen up. They start by loosening his tie and then the rest of Cas’ clothes gets peeled off until he’s in something he knows Dean didn’t pack.

The fishnet t-shirt is black and big enough on him that Clara coos and says, “He’s so cute.” Lower, thinking that Cas wouldn’t hear, she says to Cory, “Can we have him tonight?”

It surprises Cas, though he doesn’t know why, when Cory grins, all mischief and cunning, and answers, “He might just get lucky enough.” She kisses Clara after that, curled lips meeting sweet pout and Cas doesn’t look away until he’s jostled by another of their friends.

Like something caught in a current Cas is swept back into the Jeep and then back out onto a street littered with clubs and bars but where the party seems to be taking over the pavement too.

These aren’t like the hole in the wall places Dean likes to drink at. The beverages are colourful, the decor neon and the people bursting with energy. Everyone is dancing and touching and moving as a whole.

When Clara grips his chin, offers a more predatory look than he’d expect from her and kisses him, he lets her. He likes it. She’s soft even as she leads the kiss into something filthy. When she pulls away she plants an equally filthy kiss on Cory who then plants one on him.

It all feels good, Cas is buzzing not with the booze they’ve had him drink but with the energy of the club they’ve ended up in. It’s still not comparable, Dean has sent Cas on much wilder highs with just a look. Cas thinks he could kiss these pretty girls forever and it wouldn’t mean as much as the briefest instance of locked eyes with Dean.

 

Cas makes his way up the coast, staying in small towns and small motels that remind him too much of the Winchesters. Eventually he finds himself in Seattle. He lives there for a while, gets a job as technical support at a radio station (it’s all waves) and builds himself a life. He goes to the market on Saturdays and runs on Sundays. He volunteers at a women’s shelter on Tuesdays and spends time with the bees on Thursdays.

It’s on a Friday, early enough that the sun is still low on the horizon, while he’s on his way to work that he physically bumps into Jeremy.

Jeremy smokes cigarettes and is as tattooed as Dean is freckled, maybe, (Cas later finds out Jeremy owns a tattoo parlor) but he never wears leather and his drink of choice is rhum.

They bump into each other four times before Jeremy asks Cas out and Cas doesn’t say no.

The date is nice and it’s followed by a string of more dates. Jeremy likes to talk about big things like God and Karma and Right and Wrong. Cas likes to talk about these things too, likes that with Jeremy he isn’t expected to know the answers. Likes that he can speculate like the rest of ‘em. Likes that in Jeremy’s small apartment with book lined shelves and book littered floors, Castiel isn’t an angel of the lord. He is just Castiel.

Cas sprawls on Jeremy’s couch, wears Jeremy’s t-shirt and Jeremy’s boxers, reads Jeremy’s book (the one he got published a few years back) after the first time they have sex.

Cas finds that he likes getting fucked. He’d never really thought of it before. He’d always figured he’d be the one to take Dean apart. To lick him open until Dean is nothing but ready, nothing but needing, nothing but Cas’.

Jeremy is sweet enough and Cas enjoys himself, but Jeremy’s hands aren’t calloused and he calls Cas by his full name and Cas feels full but he doesn’t feel whole.

Not like he does when Dean hugs him.

 

Cas gets transferred to Vancouver where they’re opening a new station. Crossing the border, Cas feels an odd trepidation. Dean’s barely seen Canada, this experience is all Cas.

He meets Mabel at the botanical garden where she works. They talk for hours that first time and when he sees her next he asks her out.

Mabel is sweet and tells Cas things even he didn’t know about the bees. She teaches Cas to bake and Cas shows her the wonders of Netflix. She plays along like she and literally everyone else don’t already know what Netflix is and wonders how a man this wonderful fell into her lap.

A few months later Mabel’s lease is up and they both think it’s irrational and impulsive but they move in together anyway.

A few months after that Mabel tells Cas she loves him. It makes Cas pause. This feels important. This is a big thing. This is what got him on the road in the first place.

Dean’s never said those words to him. Yet what Dean did say was enough for Cas to break through Naomi’s brainwashing. _We’re family._ It was enough for Cas to defy all of heaven. _We need you._ It was enough for Cas to choose Dean over everything else. _I need you._ Cas doesn’t want to ever choose anything else.

“I love you too,” he tells Mabel and he means it. It’s just not the same. Nothing could compare. Not to Dean. Not to him and Dean together.

It’s another few months later when they have the conversation that ends their relationship. It doesn’t seem like it would at first, starts off innocent enough, but when Cas makes it clear that he can’t give her children it’s all but over.

Mabel asks him to leave and so Castiel does but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as his last night in the bunker. The hole Dean’s words left in his chest is still there and Castiel thinks there’s only one way to fill it. He’s tried everything else. He’s done what Dean wanted. He went and met people, met the world. As wonderful as they were- and they were wonderful- the most glaring thing about them was how much they weren’t Dean. Now Cas’ll do what he knows is right. He’ll go where he knows he belongs.

 

The large metal door to the bunker opens with the same creaking it always does.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says.

Dean just stares, mouth hanging open and gun still raised. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, Cas has been gone for years and Dean hasn’t felt the knot in his stomach loosen until now.

He’d tried to shake the pain. Slept around for a while until all that did was make him hurt more. Has been focusing all of his energy on hunting since.

“S’been years, Cas.” He can’t think of anything else to say and his voice is hoarse so it’s not like any words would have sounded good.

“Invite me in, Dean.”

Dean nods dumbly, moves to the side and tucks his gun back in his pants.

They stand in front of the now closed door just staring at each other for a while.

“I won’t say it again,” Cas finally speaks. “If you don’t want me to but I won’t ever not mean it.”

Dean nods because what else is he supposed to do?

“You don’t have to have me but I’m not going to stop giving myself to you.”

Then, Dean figures there’s really only one thing to do.

“I do too.” He pauses and almost laughs at Cas squinting at him in confusion. How has he missed squinting? “I love you too. God, I love you too, Cas.”

Cas hears the words and they’re… they’re everything. His entire person, this body he’s made his own and the grace inside, sings with happiness, with the feeling of _right_. His entire existence might have been just so he’d hear these words said by this man.

They go to Cas’ old room which he’s surprised to find is exactly how he left it. Or maybe he isn’t surprised. Dean must have known he’d come back, on some level, Dean must have known that by his side is where Cas belongs.

Cas means to ask but when he turns Dean takes an almost threatening step towards him. Then Dean’s mouth is touching Cas’ mouth and Cas forgets whatever it is he was thinking about. It’s not a kiss, not really, but Cas gets all the cliches from the contact. Bells chime in his ears and fireworks go off behind his lids and butterflies overrun his stomach.

Of course it has to be Dean. No one else would ever do for Cas.

And when Dean’s lips actually move against his? The angel is lost. It’s been said that he had been since he laid hands on the righteous man but maybe that’s when he was found.

Dean’s lips are soft and Cas’ aren’t but Cas doesn’t think Dean minds because he moans into the kiss and tugs Cas closer with the lapels of his trenchcoat. Dean works it off Cas’ shoulders and lets it drop to the floor.

When he pulls away his eyes are glassy and his lips impossibly plump.

“Where’s your suit?” Dean asks as if it matters.

“I’ve experienced new things. I like jeans and I like t-shirts.”

“Do you like to take them off?” Dean grins.

“It turns out I’m a bit of a nudist.”

Dean laughs and together they remove each other’s clothing. Piece by piece, they strip away layers revealing themselves underneath. It’s something they’ve imagined doing before and now it’s happening. It’s never been like this for Cas. The people he’s been with were pretty, sure, and Cas was without a doubt attracted to them but this… _Dean_ … It’s something else entirely. Cas wishes he’d spent the last few years mapping out Dean’s body. Hands flattening on the hard planes, nose nuzzling the softer spots, tongue linking every last freckle.

Eventually, after too long but also too soon (because undressing each other is fun), they’re naked. They’re like giddy teenagers at a sleepover in the way they shuffle onto the mattress and under the blanket, each coming up on either side of the bed and meeting in the middle, mouths first. Fingertips roam and tease and tickle and at some point Dean has to stop kissing Cas to let out a laugh. Cas makes note of the ticklish spot.

When Dean sobers he says all reverent and awed and _grateful_ , “You came back.”

“Did you doubt that I would?”

Dean buries his face in Cas’ neck instead of answering the question. Lips moving against the angel’s throat, he asks, “What else have you learned about yourself, Cas?”

So Cas tells him. He pushes Dean onto his back, straddles him and kisses his way down his body. An even trade: one fact per kiss, until he gets greedy and it’s more like one per five, six, ten. The things he shares are mostly arbitrary- _I found there is such a thing as too much honey._ \- but they set Dean on fire as they’re spoken, Cas’ lips brushing and pressing into his skin, Cas’ voice rumbling.

Cas only stops talking when he takes Dean in his mouth. Dean curses above him.

“Christ, Cas, you’ve learned about more than just yourself.”

Cas laughs around Dean’s cock and feels him tremble underneath him as the head bumps the back of Cas’ throat.

“ _Cas._ ”

Cas pulls off to shoot a cheeky smirk Dean’s way. “Yes, Dean?”

Dean rolls his eyes once but then they roll back of their own accord as Cas’ tongue ventures lower. It feels _so_ _fucking good._ Better than when Dean licks a finger and touches himself there. Better than anything Dean has ever had done to him before. So good that Dean wonders how Cas can moan and _mewl_ like that with his tongue inside of Dean. Then Dean realises it’s him. He’s the one keening and begging and chanting Cas’ name like every prayer he didn’t dare make while the angel was away.

Dean thinks it’s too late to feel embarrassed, so the next words out of his mouth are sharper, lucid, less slurred by pleasure because he wants Cas to really hear them. “Cas, Cas, Cas, I need more, Cas.”

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas asks, fingers of one hand digging into the fleshy part of Dean’s thigh as he lifts himself up.

Dean hesitates for a moment. The most he’s ever had in his ass is Cas’ tongue just now and the tip of one finger, once when he was drunk and desperate enough to brave it. He’d left a girl he’d brought back to the motel one night after getting her off, hating the feeling of her hands on his body. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Cas. He stumbled his way back to his own motel room and figured that Sam must have hit it off with the sexy brunette because he wasn’t around. Dean clumsily got a knuckle deep before he came with a shout, with thoughts of Cas plaguing him, with illusions of the feather light touch of pretty hands stroking him, with blue eyes cutting his breath off.

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas asks- demands- again, voice rough, deeper than usual but cracking on his name.

Cas is kneeling straighter now, the blanket has fallen off of his shoulders to gather behind him, around them. The hand on Dean’s thigh grips tighter as he shudders out a breath. He’s flushed...everywhere. Cheeks, shoulders, dick. Pink, panting and so pretty Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever want to look at anything else. Then he notices Cas’ other hand. The one not on Dean. The one moving rhythmically if a little awkwardly behind Cas.

“This,” Dean finally says on an exhale. “You. Anything. Whatever you want. _You_ , Cas. You’re gorgeous, you know? Fuck, Cas, _you._ ”

Cas nods and shuffles forward again, tell Dean he can have it all and sinks down onto him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean says on a loop.

Cas has had minimal prep, hasn’t bothered with lube other than his own spit mixed with some of Dean’s precome, but the stretch and burn is so sweet. Unlike honey, Cas doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough. Still, he allows himself a pause before he continues his descent to take all of Dean.

A little outraged, Dean chokes out, “There’s more? How is there more? I thought I was all in? Is it supposed to feel this good? Is it supposed to feel this hot?”

Cas laughs and Dean thinks it sounds like looking into the sun which doesn’t make any sense except that it does. “You ask too many questions.”

That’s when Cas starts moving, tight rolls of his hips at first, and Dean doesn’t ask any other question all night save for, “Please, Cas, please,” but that’s more of a plea. Cas hears _I love you_ , anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on that [tumblr](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/) thing.


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